Shadowbound
by CorpseGarden
Summary: Nocturnal's luck is never something to be exploited or wasted. Such is what two Wood Elves and a Redguard must learn the hard way.
1. P Inquiry

Shadowbound: Prologue - Inquiry

A rogue is no ordinary teacher. Certainly not one favorable by many parents, as we are fabled corruptors and conspirators as we have been "painted" throughout the ages. Let's get past that, shall we?

Heist; a five-letter word which apparently has multiple meanings. To a new blood of the guild, it's not being seen while taking a sweetroll from a child. To us, croaking may or may not be a word we must reckon with. Don't you just love heteronyms?

Shadow. The life of a thief is the life of a shadow. However, the _lifeblood _of a thief is none other than the luck bestowed by Nocturnal. But when is one too lucky? When is it that the tides change? That the tables are turned?

When is it that your lifeblood runs dry?


	2. C1 The Tower

Gwendolyn and I have been lurking in this shadow for roughly an hour. Any moment now, the hag will have to roost. I hear her feet make contact with the floor. I cannot decide if the sound resembles something drenched or sticky. Her talons are scraping down with every step. Fortunately for us, she is on the floor above.

The scraping stops. Not only does Gwendolyn stop cringing as if her teeth are grinding against stone, but our time has come. Carefully, I brace my hands on the table I've been crouched on. As I let my left leg down, the table creaks loudly.

Frozen, we can only listen as the gut-wrenching sound continues. It stops as we hear pottery shatter and wooden furniture topple over. More disturbance occurs as we hear a chair slide across the floor and books falling from an obviously high point. This is becoming amusing as dim candlelight reveals a piece of parchment flutter to its landing on the first stair. During the chaos that followed, I step down from my table and Gwendolyn slips down from the shelf.

"Damn it all, I'm going to sleep..." the hagraven screeches, sounding like an old man being strangled.

However, nightfall is gripping the landscape around the tower - I can see it through the dusty, broken glass of the windows. We've already invested several days into watching and waiting. If we are lucky, she'll have a little treasure trove outside the top floor. We did some scouting just yesterday. There's a balcony with a bridge to the mountaintop and it looked like something else was up there.

After some tie, the mice scurry out of hiding. One courageous little bastard stands on its hindlegs at our feet to wipe at its face and ears with its from paws. Hell, I would be able to stand nonchalantly in the face of a giant too, if I had to live with that damned thing. The thought slips away when I see Gwen turning to me.

"Should I," she pauses mid-whisper, "perhaps, send our little friend to check on dearest for us?"

I nod quietly in response as she kneels to get closer to the furry creature. One chant uttered, and the mouse is doing our bidding and enabling her to see through its eyes. It must be nice being a mage. Though, if I were her, I'd coax the hag out with a child. Of course, I suppose, strong magic requires strong resolve.

It takes the little creature ages to scale several stairs. Rather than wait an eternity, I pluck the rodent up by its tail and deposit it at the top of the stairs. Quickly, I retreat as silently as possible. After several moments, a blur rushes back down the stairs - clinging to the wall as if it were life. Evidently, control has been released.

Control always throws small animals into panic. Gwendolyn once controlled a hawk to sweep into the Emperor's bedchamber(of course, the window was open by my doing earlier that day) and steal an amulet right out of a consort's hands as she went to fasten it around her neck. Once the hawk was released after handing over the trinket, it fell to the ground and fluttered and jerked around as if it were a fish out of water. Eventually, life drained out from the creature.

However, this is no time for nostalgia. Wasting no time, we silently scale the case of stairs. The hag's bedchamber is littered with potions, poisons, and rotting alchemical ingredients. Seeing no valuables churns my stomach moreso than the stink of the rot contaminating the room. Immediately, we took the nearest exit - the balcony with the bridge. Luckily for us, there was no door. Most of all, no squeaky hinges to contend with.

Things begin to appear to be improving. Chests are full of red potions, there are plenty of expensive daggers just lying about - unguarded. Then I realize what everything is. The exact same moment in time when I see the sacrificial altar directly in front of us, merely yards away.


End file.
